3 Gifts, 3 Expressions of My Life

I received 3 ornaments as gifts in the past weeks. Each ornament highlights a different part of me. Three expressions of accomplishment achieved or values that I feel strongly about. Each friend saw something in their gift that reminded them of me. I am struck by the fact that these 3 friends have honored me with 3 representations of different aspects of or values in my life. Each friend I know from a different season of my life as well. Thank you Eden, Kori and Janet. 

The first is an ornament made from wine corks. It is shaped in the configuration of a cluster of grapes and then decorated with green glitter and other fun stuff. It is very lightweight and pretty.

It honors the work Buddy and I did in creating his winery dream. We created something from nothing. He had a dream, God opened doors and we followed the path. There were many anxieties and fears, especially at the beginning. We overcame the fear to follow in that path. Although there were many struggles and ultimately, we closed due his illness, it was a part of our lives for many years, An accomplishment to be remembered and celebrated.  And, of course, it is made with sparkly stuff. I  like sparkly stuff....a lot.

The second is a round red ornament with a big red bow that says " I love my RESCUE DOG" in big bold letters. And it has paw prints all around. It is a large ornament and makes a statement in a bold fashion. That is something I appreciate.
Especially in the past 8-9 years, adopting homeless dogs has become my thing. It started with Bear, a 9 year old lab/greyhound mix that the humane society was having difficulty finding a home for because he was 9 and probably because he was black. He had been there for 3 months when we took him home. All of the dogs we have added to our family since then have been rescues. 
I believe that most rescue pups have various emotional issues. They struggle because of the life they were born into or the situation developed and they eventually ended up homeless. Some of these dogs, I would probably not be qualified to help, in fact there are some aggression issues that would be just over the top for me to be able to manage. However, there are some problems I can work handle. Especially as I learned more about the "pack and alpha mentality". I feel good that with all of my dogs, rescues and not, I have learned more about being the leader. It has helped me manage them better. And when there is a pup with some issues, I have found that I can provide a home, provide love, stability and structure. To work with those insecurities and personality issues so that they can settle, enjoy life and be happy makes me happy. 

The 3rd ornament came in the mail just this past week. It is made with 2 different metals. 
The first is pewter color in the shape of a leaf and attached to the stem is a smaller piece of copper colored metal that is a sign.It says, "Every season tells a new story, 2015". It was given to me not so much as an ornament for my tree, but to celebrate this blog and my venture into the world of writing. It was meant to help me find a celebration in and amongst my grief. That in spite of the blackness in my world right now, there are some stars sparkling if I choose to see them.
This ornament is unique. Its craftsmanship is beautiful but because of the materials it is made from, it is heavier than most ornaments. And it is the weight of it that speaks to me right now.The weight of this leaf represents a few different messages to me.

The weight of it represents the strength that I see in it my character, my message, my gifts. I have generally viewed myself as "sturdy" more than "decorative". God made me a force, a leader and a friend. Sometimes, that involves speaking the truth in love. Speaking with love sometimes means speaking with gentleness, sometimes with humor and other times with directness. Always, with the intention of bringing forth the light in someone else. It is not always easy or fun. That is where the sturdiness comes in.
 
Secondly, in regards to our marriage I look back and see myself as supporting structure in the building  that was our life. I viewed myself as a stable and strong part of the structure we became together. Maybe not a foundation but more of a support beam that was also a safe haven. A place where there was protection from the storms we encountered.

And lastly, the direct message engraved upon the copper. I did not  ask for or want the changes that have been brought into my life in the past 2 years with Buddy's illness and death. My expectation and hope was that we would live a long life and grow old together. However, that is not what I was given. God has a different plan for me now. The bible says, "I have come that you might have life, and have it more abundantly." There is a new story in this new season of my life. There is a door to walk through, something else to accomplish. A new purpose.

I have struggled to be open to this new life, the abundant life. The one without my dear husband and friend. That new purpose, the open door, it is there, awaiting my acceptance and the willingness to walk through that open door. It is that weight of the ornament that speaks to the strength required to let go of my grief and walk through that open door. 

My Dearest One

My Dearest One,

I hope you know how much I still love you. My love is held into the deepest part of me. Somehow, I have to move on from the place I exist right now. I live in this confined space while grasping to hold onto what little I have left of you here with me. I've been afraid to move on to rebuild who I am now because I am afraid that if I let go of this tight grasp I have, I will loose the rest of you. But, clinging to my grief is not really holding onto you. It is clinging to my grief and sadness. It's not you that I hold onto, its my pain and suffering.

Today, I am going to choose to cling to your love for me, your memory and all of the amazing things you taught me. To cling to the memory of who you were in my life and who we were together. Today, I will take you with me wherever I go. I will keep the essence of who you were close to me. And, all of what you meant to me. Those are the things I will cling to.

Today, I will begin to recognize the difference between clinging to the hurt, the pain and the grief verses clinging to you, the man who loved and held me tight. I realize that your wish for me would be to live my life well. To use my gifts that God has given me to their fullest. Your wish for me would be to complete the race God has set before me. And, also to know that if I spent the rest of my life sad and miserable, you would feel grief that I allowed your illness and death to put a dark sheath over the rest of my days. In life, you never wanted me to be hurt or to be sad and if I spent the rest of my days that way, you would be sad.

You were my greatest support, my biggest cheering section whatever I did. Your desire for me would be to be healed and whole. To be the woman you met, married and appreciated. And so today, I cling to you, move forward in those new ventures. And, bring you along as I shed my deep sorrow.

I am sure that there will still be tears and heartache, but for today, I cling to you, your memory and all you mean to me. You are my love, my support, my Dearest One. 

Am I Looking Back Instead of Forward?

Over the past months, I've traveled to a couple of places my husband and I traveled to in the past. They were 2 destinations in which I have very fond memories. I have also attended a local event that we have gone to every year for the past decade. In each case, I had hoped to bring him closer to me. And, in each case, that did not happen. I created new memories. I reconnected with friends we've seen over the years at that annual event. But, in each case, I was still alone. I found that in some instances, I created new memories that did not involve him. But, I felt no closer to him than I do here at home. And that, in and of itself created sadness for me. 

And so, I have been looking at my choices, why I went to those places. What were my expectations? And, I found that I was trying to recreate the experience from before. I was trying to experience the fun and the relationship and the love we shared simply with geography. And, when that didn't happen, I was disappointed. My grief was touched anew because of the unrealized expectations that I placed on the experience, the geography.

Somehow, I need to remember the memories. Cherish and hold them close. However, it is necessary for me to build my own life now. My own memories. My own experiences. To look on the activities I choose for my own enjoyment, rather than trying to bring him close. The process requires me to look forward rather than back.

My current struggle with this is because my heart says, "I don't wanna" (hear the 3 year old whiney voice). I'm afraid if I move forward, I will leave him behind. That somehow, I will loose all of my relationship, all of his memory. My head knows that this is not true. That his memory will be with me always. The life and memories we enjoyed are mine forever. But, my heart is not ready to believe this yet. My heart is not ready to turn ahead and walk forward, It is still gripping the past.

So, for now, I think that rather than making old choices to bring back memories, I would be better off trying to make new choices, new destinations, new activities that are for my own enjoyment. And then, somehow, learn to bring him along. Make him the passenger, not the focus. 

Am I Really Honoring His Memory in this Existence I have Chosen?

Today, I am looking at the possibility of getting a new job. A new career path for me. Of course it will bring new challenges for me to accomplish. Other new things that I am accomplishing are that I am writing now, not something I did regularly before. And, I am building a small business of my own. All expressions of using my gifts for the greater good and honoring God with my life. These are all good things. The rebuilding of my life. The replanting of the barren field that exists because his death. A kind of moving on.

There is, however, a voice in the back of my head. The voice of a "little one" screaming "NOOOOOOO, I don't WANT to move on." The reason for this is because moving on means that I am leaving him behind. That I have already lost SO much, to loose more of him is unthinkable. I would rather live in this semi-existence of life, holding onto the memories I have.

However, my I say to this "little one" inside my head, continuing to live this semi-existence is not going to keep him here, it is not going to help me hold on. It is simply me choosing not to live well. To choose to semi exist. It is not really keeping him with me. I can do that anywhere. So, this semi existence is a way to stay sad. To not face the world alone. To be blunt, an excuse not to live my life without him here.

It's a harsh reality I face this day. That belief that I still don't want to live again. I would rather semi exist and sort of punish myself in the name of his memory than to truly take him along on my new journey. I still don't know how to bring him along. To walk ahead without feeling like I am being disloyal. But, I also know that this semi existence is not really honoring his memory, it is a cocoon that I needed for awhile that now is a way to hide away from the part of life that requires me to face the world alone, without my true love, in the world as a single person once again. That cocoon allowed a place of healing once, but now, becomes a place of avoidance. It takes courage to walk on, to become a butterfly and leave this place. There is a resistance and a reluctance. I'm not sure what it will take to move on from here. There is still a conflict within my soul that I need to resolve before I can fly out of this existence. 

A Chance Meeting

This day is one of encouragement, of feeling God's care for me. The feeling put tears in my eyes because it has been months, many many months since I felt this care. It's not that God has not been caring for me, He has. In fact, He has probably been carrying me through it all. However, through the drenching storms of pain, I have not felt this simple direction. The leading of the reins in my life. A direction that is as of yet unclear, but an assurance that there is a plan. A plan that gives my life meaning once again.

Today was that day. A chance meeting, a friend, a new friend, a camaraderie of our personalities, a willingness to risk it all and be vulnerable. The memory of another time, long ago where I jumped off of a cliff with the expectation that God would be there to catch me. A realization that there are many  similarities of that time and in my current situation.

And, it came to pass that there was an assurance that this chance meeting was ordained, and that the questions I've been asking have an answer being revealed. That revelation is that there is a light shining on a door that now stood open. The choice for me to walk through that door. And a song, a confirmation of sorts that "I am not alone and that He goes before me".

A path has opened, one that includes a stretching of my faith. What should you hear me say right now? That it is a scary path, a path of vulnerability. But, a God-ordained path. A path that requires me to trust. 

My Thoughts are Tinged with Tears

My thoughts are tinged with tears this day. The things I think about doing without you bring me sadness. Sadness for all the dreams we had, places we had left to travel, the things we had to accomplish yet in our life together. There were dreams and now they belong only to me.

I try to move on by myself these days and yet, with each choice I make, each thing I accomplish, each of our friends that I visit, also includes an ache in my heart. Each is washed in my tears. It seems that the choices I have available to me are either to stop or to go on.

I want to stop. To not fight anymore. I want to allow my grief to take over.To just let go. It would be easier. Not easy mind you, but easier. My heart is broken and it weeps. It would be easier to let that be the whole of my existence. To accept the feeling that I have no life, no purpose and no reason to continue to be here. But you see, there is a part of me that knows that this is not the truth. It is a very small voice speaking to that broken part of me. It speaks to me. That voice says that I am still here because I still have purpose. God still has a plan. I don't really want to hear this voice. But I fight, I feel my pain and also choose to go on. Some days I accomplish a lot. And others, my victory is to get out of bed and eat.

My challenge on many of these days, (whether they are the harder ones or the easier ones), is to make the choices I need to make while still allowing my heart to be broken. To still allow my heart to weep without having answers as to what the purpose is that I am still here. To still know that although I miss him with all who I am, there are other things for me to do yet in this life, even though I don't quite believe that yet or know what those thing are. To allow the belief that I have purpose to coexist with the thought that I can't imagine a satisfying life without him in it. A big part of the difficulty is that I don't see the path as of yet. It has not been illuminated in front of me. I guess I don't see a way for those opposing perspectives to live in harmony inside of me. 

The Piece of Me That You Took When You Left (Part 2 of 2)

You took that piece of me along with you when you left. So thankful I am that you were able to do that. It is an indication of the life what we shared. The husband and wife that came together as one. We struggled and we faced the world and life that came our way. We had laughter and happiness and sorrow to share.

Because we had that most wonderful of lives, that piece of me that you took stayed with you when you left. It is the life that we had together that made this passing so hard. We were so grateful for the life that we shared.

God took the 2 of us so broken and torn. And melded us together into one amazing shape. Like a glass ball made with 2 colored rods, the molten and firing of that glass makes it bend. He used that pliable glass to create the gift of a life that made us what we were. The sparkling glass ball.

You were the foundation, the stability and strength. I was the energy, the enthusiasm, the creative and the spark. Together we lived in the life we were given. Thankful for your healing and wisdom and love. We were most thankful for that gift, the gift of a companion, lover and friend.

So today I weep for the loss of my great love. But as I look back I see what we were given. And for it I am thankful that we were together, and that piece of me that was bonded had to be taken along. Because without the wondrous things that He did, that piece of me would not have been molded to you. 

The Piece of Me That Is Now With You. Part 1 of 2

There are different segments of the grief inside of me. Different pieces that make up the whole. There is the missing you, the person you were, the love of my life. There is the loss of my role in our marriage, the destruction of my life as I knew it. Additionally, there are the wounds that came from tearing us apart.  I don't have my husband, my companion, my protector and my friend. I don't have the One near me that I love, hug and offer support. Together we made up the structure we called 'us'. Its like the roof of my home has been removed from the structure below. That roof that protected me from many of the elements of our life. My arms used to hold you, an extension of my heart. My Love, my companion, my friend I do miss you. Those arms feel oh so empty. Not only do I grieve the loss that I feel because you aren't here beside me each day.

I find that when you were taken, a piece of me went with you. You see, we were bonded together by God's hand into one flesh. When you were taken to Him, it created a huge gap in me. It is that missing piece that I am grieving about today. My purpose, my life there is an emptiness inside. It is a piece separate from the place where you were attached. It's the place that your person and your life was connected to mine. Today, my tears fall because of that hole that you left.  

The raindrops that fall outside of my window right now, mirror the raindrops that are falling inside me today. That piece of me that is missing and now is just a hole. I have activities and friends and pieces of life to build up once again. A life that is, on the surface, beginning to function again. However, I'm struggling to find purpose in my life here this day. As I look at myself, that hole seems to be difficult to fill.

I don't feel whole as I move myself forward. The activity and the friends and the usefulness that I experience, does not seem to touch that vacant piece inside my soul. It is that piece of me that you took with you when you went on your way, the piece that had your name attached and was the piece of me that fit into that piece of you. I wonder if its that hole that will never be filled or feel content? I'm guessing it will not. You hold the key that fits in that spot, and with you gone from me, the key is not here and therefore the keyhole remains empty.

The Marriage Commitment From the Perspective of Widowhood

Through the weeks and months that have passed, I contemplate the view of marriage in God's eyes, looking backwards from the experience of widowhood. Repeatedly, the Bible says, "....a man shall leave his father and mother and be united with his wife. And, the 2 shall become one.". (Mark 6).

There are several aspects of these verses that have come to me regarding my marriage.

1. Marriage was a commitment of the mind and the heart that we made way back then. Like all couples, we struggled to live in this "new body". The one flesh if you will. We had committed to each other and through it all, we stayed together, united in spite of each of our flaws and inadequacies. We faced many struggles together. Struggles that could have torn us apart. But, we chose to bond together and face them together. United.

2. Although we had made a promise and commitment to each other, it was God who bound us together. As I am alone now, I see how our marriage and life together had became more than the sum of the 2 of us could ever had been. He made us more than we could be on our own. I look back on the marriage and friendship we enjoyed. There was so much that became of the 2 of us being together, sharing together, teaching each other. I see so many things that I am today because I learned to live and love together with this man.

3. Because we became "one flesh" and he was taken from me, it felt akin to an amputation. A tearing away of part of myself. The trauma and the suffering was great and intense. The healing is a process. One that may always involve a sense of loss.

4. Another struggle that I have faced has to do with the commitment I made, for life. I married him "until death parted us". However, the struggle I've had is that the fact that although he has died, I have not, and therefore has not changed the sincerity of my commitment to him. The fact that I am still here, that commitment is still intact. How do I go on without him? How do I fulfill my marriage commitment? My life was to be bonded to him "forever". What do I do with it now that the bond has been changed? God made us one flesh, and we were ripped apart. How does that mend it? What do I do with that emotional commitment that I made? That change from being single to being united was a permanent change for me. How does my commitment to him continue with us on two sides of life? What does that look like during the continuation of my life here? How do I love him and care for him now that he's physically not with me here?

In many ways, I have more questions than answers, this is true. Especially related to my love and commitment in the here and now. I will say that as I look on from my perspective this day, I see much in the way of God's hand, creating a miracle from the lives of two mostly broken souls. 

Does it Really Matter? Part 2

As I struggled with feeling like my life here really has no purpose now that my loved one has gone, I was brought to some words from God's holy book, Isaiah 61: 2-3:

"...to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion
to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor."

In the past day or 2, this has become God's message to me during the bleakness of this season in my life. The plague of death has wrought its destruction as far as my eyes can see. What it left behind is a barren field. There is activity, and things to do. But, the foundation that gives me meaning has been destroyed. I am reminded of the thinking that it is often easier to tear down a house and start all over than to change and remodel the one that is currently there. My "house" has been torn down and so I sit here needing the Contractor, to do create the rebuild.

And, I stand on the promise written long ago, that He will replace my ashes with a crown of beauty, take my mourning and replace it with the oil of joy. And wrap me in a blanket of praise while He takes my despair. And, that He will do this to "reseed" the barren field that I currently see all around me. All for the purpose of His glory.

I don't know what this will look like, or how long it will take. But, the promise is that one day, my field won't be barren, my house will be 'rebuilt' and my heart will mend. That somehow, my foundation of purpose will not always feel so empty. That one day, my life will feel like it has purpose again. 

Does It Really Matter? Part 1

I have begun to put some of my life back together again. I have some activity, some things to accomplish and a "life" of sorts. But, I still wonder, in the back of my head, does it really matter? In spite of the rebuilding I have done to this point. There is the thought that there is no real value. It's just activity marking time.

I'm working on my health, I am looking toward finding work. I have created a social and support structure in my life. On the surface, it would look like "all is coming together again". However, when I sit quietly and look deep inside my heart, there still exists this fatalistic view that has been there all along. The one that still says, "nothing really matters".

In the past couple days, I've had a cold. And so, I asked myself "If I were to have a medical issue and die in my bed, would I be okay with that, would I be sad?" The feeling I have in the back of my mind is that no, it would really just make everything easier for me now. There would be no work to climb back out of this hole. It would take this thing I call "my life", have it just be done and no more to pretending.

So, yes, its been 6 months, and I have things going on. But truly in the back of my head not much seems to have changed. I do more things now and those feelings are not at the front and center of my mind any more, but hidden there where they are more easily ignored.

I do make choices to go on and live this life  each day. My choices are made with my head in the right place. But you know its my heart that still is broken. And, somehow the grief that lives in my heart still speaks. And, its message hasn't changed much. 

Solitude During the Holidays

As I sit here, I am by myself, but not really alone. As social a creature as God made me to be and I have been throughout my life to this point, during this season of my life, the darkness of widowhood, I find I prefer the solitude of my own company.

When we were away from home, out to dinner, on vacation or doing business together, we would interact with the strangers all around. He more quiet, me more outgoing, but both involved in the conversation at hand. However, now that he's not here, I don't find it in me to initiate a conversation, to smile and say "hi". Is it the season of life I now live or a change in me that makes this so hard? I don't really know the answer to that query. All I know now is that meeting new people has become so much harder for me now than ever before.

It feels rather odd, this new way to approach it. As social and excited as I've always been, I find myself choosing isolation and time on my own. Those character traits more common to my husband, my Love. The One that I've lost. I find myself needing the quiet, wrapped in solitude of my own making. You see, I am not really here on vacation, and to join the fun. I am here to make it through this holiday season intact. You see, it's the first one. I don't want to fill my day with activity or my night with dancing. The sorrow and grief is heavy to bear. There is pain and there is stress that needs my care. I require more sleep and more quiet than before. Life has become a balancing act. The practice of determining how to handle my grief and sorrow this day. Sometimes it's for a moment, sometimes for the day. I have found that it changes somewhat from one day to the next.

As I learn to face these many "first occasions" without the love of my husband, my companion and friend, I find that the courage it takes to face down each one, just sucks the energy for each one that I face. As I learn to live with this new companion called grief, I stand and walk forward through this string of many firsts. The goal is not happiness, not joy nor hope. It is to just make it through these next 2 weeks emotionally whole, taking each day, one at a time.  

Coexistence Instead of Distraction- Part 3 of 3

Here I sit at this little cafe. It is Christmas Eve and the sun is shining bright and holiday decorations are all around. Bright packages and daisies, santas and snowflakes. As I sit in the sunshine small waves of sadness pass through. Relaxed and people watching, I enjoy a drink at this downtown cafe. My sadness sits here with me as I sit and observe. Knowing that today is one of those "first holidays" I will face, I expect it to be hard no matter where I am. So, today, I enjoy this little cafe. I appreciate the decorations and the hand bells ringing somewhere nearby.

Rather than trying to distract myself from my sadness and grief, I invite it to sit with me right here for awhile. It's not going to leave me alone, so today I try to enjoy the sights all around me. It is my attempt to coexist together rather than try to ignore. I expect that we, my grief and I, will be closely acquainted for some time to come. Instead of trying to ignore or distract myself from its power, it seems to me that coexistence is a wiser and healthier choice.

This is the little cafe. 

What Will I Need on that Day? Part 2 of 3

I went away to get away from it all. "I can be sad and cry anywhere" I thought. So, I'll go away. I locked the door and went away. The day is almost here and it has kind of snuck up behind me. I've spent my days trying the distraction approach. But now, it's time to face the music so to speak. The sadness, the heartache will not be ignored. There's only so much avoidance and distraction I can create for myself before the sorrow comes crashing back, breaking through the cracks in my armor.

The day is almost here, what can I do?  How do I prepare for it? I'm really not sure. Do I go to a midnight service? Can I pretend to be happy and sing those holiday songs? Probably not. What if I need to cry? Do I want to be in a room full of strangers or just here alone? I don't know if I'll have the strength to go there. Maybe its better if its just me by myself. What should I do, Oh what do I need? I don't know. The answer is not clear. I have all this anxiety piled on top of it all, I just don't know right now what I will need. 

One of Those Difficult Days-Part 1 of 3

My heart is broken and right now it feels like there is no cure. Like there is no way to mend the cracks that exist. There are times I just have to separate, to get away from it all. Its the only way to endure the pain, the sorrow, and the intensity of my grief. And so, I distract myself. I close off the hurt temporarily. It allows me to take a deep breath, to have the strength to turn back again and work through it all once again. It is a few days before my first Christmas with Buddy gone. It is understandably hard. It feels like the struggle has become more intense than it was just a few short weeks ago. It is the holiday season, of
that I am sure.

The goal for this day is to get out of bed, to try to figure out what I need to do for myself today. To be as safe and supported as I can be in the midst of it all this day. I may need to cry, I may need to be alone. Whatever I do, it will be a struggle, of that I can be sure. The goal is to put one foot in front of the other, find a safe place just to cry. To write and to eat and just to make it through.

There will be other days where it might be easier to get out of bed. Other days when I do not need those tears. But, today is not one of those days. Today is one of the harder ones. 

The Constant Companion

I am told that my grief will always be here with me. That is will change and develop but will be my constant companion. That it will morph and it will change over time, but that it will always be here with me.

I have seen that some in my 4 short months. My constant overwhelming hurricane of pain has changed. I now have some days in which I experience level emotions. It seems that the pain is always there but I have distractions that turn my attention away and make it easier to bear. But in the blink of an eye, there is a sudden shooting pain, kind of an arrow in my heart when something reminds me of him. Simple things like his favorite food I can no longer fix for him or his smell on a shirt. Those memories that still have the power to burst through the thin mending of my heart. They feel like arrows burning deep within. It happens when I am out and about. It becomes exhausting to maintain an illusion of a calm outer core until I am home again to cry and hurt and to open myself to the mending within.
Sometimes those arrows bruise. Other times they pierce and bleed. IT is these times that the wounds cause me to gasp. Those are the times when the mending is a process and just takes time.